Chapter 2
Tawny Wilkins
Something is terribly wrong. I sense it the minute I hear them come in from their dinner out and bar hopping. They’re angry and yelling, then yelling at each other. I rushed my chores after they left and am already locked in my bedroom in the attic.
This last week the looks the three older boys have been giving me has chilled me to the bone. I know that feral look. I move the small dresser in front of the door. It’s not much but it would give me a few extra minutes of protection if they try to break the door down.
Eight years ago, Mom and I were on the run. Again. We arrived in Cogburn, Oregon, and the second week we were here she met Millard Stump.
My mom never had good sense when it came to men. She got pregnant with me when she was fifteen. Her parents kicked her out and she lived with friends until after I was born.
She met another guy and we moved into his bus that had been converted into a motor home and traveled the country for a few years. That lasted until he invited another woman to travel with us. Six months later, at a rest stop, the two of them drove off while Mom and I were in the restroom.
Life continued that way for years. Mom would hook up with someone then we’d be left behind.
When I was ten, we made it to Cogburn. We were living in a shelter. Mom was working at a bar when she met Millard. He took us home and introduced us to his four boys. We never left.
My schooling had been sporadic. Here I finally got to go to school on a regular basis although I was behind other kids my age. I was excited to have a real home.
He hit Mom the first time six month later. It was an accident. The next time she ‘made him do it’. After that there were no excuses, just abuse. I begged her to leave, she said she was too tired and she’d had worse. That’s when she moved me to the attic and installed a slide bolt on the inside.
Four months ago, she fell down the stairs in the middle of the night. Millard said she was drunk, which I don’t doubt. Alcohol had become her pain relief for years. I heard them fighting. She was crying, then screaming unintelligibly, then thumping as she fell down the stairs.
I tried to say something to the police chief when he came, but three of the boys were supposedly witnesses and corroborated Millard’s story that she was drunk and fell.
Since I was still seventeen, the court appointed a social worker to visit me.
Millard keeps telling the officials he adopted me, he’s just got to find the papers.
I told the social worker it’s a lie. She’s tried to have me removed but the system is so slow, and he lies and the boys support his stories. I’m running out of time. I can feel it.
I turn eighteen in two weeks and there won’t be anything the social worker can do to help me. And I have nowhere to go.
When they leave, I have the run of the house, except they lock me in and the widows on the ground level are bolted shut on the outside. I do my chores when they’re gone and lock myself back in the attic before they get home or as soon as I hear them pull in.
I’ve been collecting the loose change and dollars they leave laying around. I’ve almost got enough for a bus ticket. The issue is getting out of the house and two towns over to catch a bus.
Tonight, before they left, I heard them talking about how convenient it will be once the social worker quits coming.
I hear the stairs creak.
The doorknob wiggles. “Tawny, honey, open up. I need to talk to you,” Chris, the oldest, slurs drunkenly.
No. Please no. Not tonight.
“Tawny, open up, baby girl.”
Reaching under my bed, I grab my partially packed backpack and start shoving what little I have inside.
“Tawny, open the door, damn it. I need to talk to you.”
My hands are shaking and I’m gasping for air. I’m going to have to make a run for it, but the only escape from up here is out the window and onto the roof.
I’ve thought about this more than once over the last month. What I’d do if they tried to attack me. At the back of the house there’s a tree that has a branch that hangs over the roof a few feet. I might be able to climb across it then down the tree.
The problem is I’m terrified of heights and have never climbed a tree in my life.
So, the alternative is to stay and get raped?
There’s a three-quarter moon which makes it easier to see what I’m doing, and harder to hide if I do make it down alive.
“Tawny, open the damn door before I kick it down. Pa said it’s time. I’m not waiting any longer. You belong to us and I need a fuck.”
Go to hell, you bastard. Nobody owns me. Slipping on the backpack, I clasp the chest strap then slide the window up and shut it behind me, hoping to buy myself more time.
More yelling reaches me and I think I hear Joey fighting with Chris. Joey and I have always been the outcast step-siblings. He and I have tried to look out for each other. God, I hope they don’t hurt him.
Crossing the roof, I slip and fall. Desperately I grapple for anything to stop my swift slide toward the edge. Snagging a loose shingle, I’m able to get control.
Getting to my feet, I stumble toward the point where the tree limb hangs over the roof.
The pounding from my room gets louder. “Open the fucking door bitch, or I swear I’ll kick it in.”
No time left. Grabbing the branch, I wrap my arms around it and slip over the edge of the roof.
The branch bounces a couple times before it bends under my weight.
It stops moving and I hear a slight crack.
Taking a deep breath, I let go. Hitting the ground sooner than I expected, I roll to the side and scramble to my feet. Nothing broken.
I turn toward the road and hesitate. That’s what they’ll expect.
If I go up the mountain to the east there’s an old lady who raises chickens and sells eggs.
I went there a couple times with Mom before she died.
Maybe I can hide in her barn, or she may even help me.
I’ll need daylight to find it, but right now I need to put some distance between me and the Stump’s house.
In the woods, I take time to grab a branch and try to hide my trail as I go. I’m sure a tracker could easily find me but none of them are that smart. I’m scared, but I’m alive and I’m free.
I don’t know how far I’ve gone or what direction I’m headed in when the adrenaline wears off and exhaustion takes over.
I come across a couple boulders that butt up against each other making what looks like a chair to my weary mind.
I climb up and settle in, thankful that I don’t have to sit on the wet ground.
Just for a couple minutes I assure myself before I drift off.
Something brushes against my foot, and I wake with a start, sitting up so quickly I almost fall off the boulder.
The sun is rising and a beautiful golden retriever meets my gaze and cocks his head. Looking over him, I see the egg woman a few feet behind him, rifle cradled in the fold of her arms.
“I know you. You bought eggs with your momma. She was living with that no count fool Stump.” She squints. “Heard she died. He kill her too? Like the other ones?”
“Others?”
“His first two.”
I—I think he pushed Mom down the stairs.”
“He try to kill you?”
“He... his sons wanted to rape me. I got away but they’ll be looking for me. I need to tell the police chief.”
She scoffs. “The current police chiefs got no balls. Can’t protect you. Nope. We got to figure out something else. Can you walk?”
“Yes ma’am. But I don’t want to cause you trouble.”
The wrinkles in her face settle into a broad grin. “Russett here found you. He’ll let us know if anyone comes lookin’. If they do...” She taps the rifle. “I haven’t missed anything I wanted to hit in years. Not gonna start now.
“Come on, child. Let’s get up to the house. You can take a shower, we’ll get some food in you, then you can get some proper rest while I think about how we’re gonna handle this.”